


just to push you down, to hold you down

by katyfaise



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Caning, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, just 2000 words of pure sin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 20:51:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6393352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katyfaise/pseuds/katyfaise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She enters the room in silence, falling into the reverent moment that sits in front of her. There are candles lighting the space, curtains are drawn over the windows and the shadows dance along walls. When her eyes fall on the man in the middle of the room, her breath catches in her throat and for a moment, she forgets to exhale. Once she does, he glances up at her slowly and there's a bit of a turn up at the edge of his lips for a slight moment.</p>
<p>“And what have I done to deserve such a sight?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	just to push you down, to hold you down

**Author's Note:**

> like it's tagged, just 2000 words of pure smut and sin and i dont know what. it's midnight and i'm uploading this so PLEASE if you catch and mistakes i've missed in my poor editing, comment and let me know so i can fix them. title from nine inch nails. hope you enjoy.

She enters the room in silence, falling into the reverent moment that sits in front of her. There are candles lighting the space, curtains are drawn over the windows and the shadows dance along walls. When her eyes fall on the man in the middle of the room, her breath catches in her throat and for a moment, she forgets to exhale. Once she does, he glances up at her slowly and there's a bit of a turn up at the edge of his lips for a slight moment.

“And what have I done to deserve such a sight?”

“Perhaps you should ask what our dear Illya has done to deserve his current predicament.”

Napoleon’s words are smooth and sweet and she steps closer to Illya. He is stooped over a stool, body completely relaxed against the leather he leans against. His hands are tied behind his back at an angle that might seem uncomfortable at first glance, but she knows the two men know each other well enough to orchestrate this carefully. He’s only clothed in his trousers, his belt missing, though, and she notices his shirt folded neatly on the ground beside him.

“What have you done, Illya?” Gaby asks, fingers idly brushing through his sandy hair. His eyes jump to Napoleon and the other man smirks, arms crossing over his chest. 

“Cowboy says anger issues.”

“Quite the understatement,” Gaby says with a scoff of laughter before she places a chaste kiss on his forehead. Napoleon pulls a chair directly across from Illya, close enough that if he had use of his arms he could reach out and palm the smooth lines of her calves beneath the trousers she wears. He pats the cushion and Gaby takes his hand as he guides her to the seat. 

She watches Napoleon as he lingers for a moment then steps toward Illya, his fingertips brushing the man’s shoulders. Gaby notices Illya inhale sharply and he rolls his shoulders, only bringing a smirk from Napoleon. Napoleon pauses and removes his suit jacket, folding it over his arm and setting it aside neatly. He removes his vest next, setting it on top of his jacket, and then unbuttons his shirt and rolls the sleeves up crisply. 

“Peril’s anger needs more control, don’t you think Gaby?” Napoleon asks calmly, and Gaby raises a brow. He doesn’t wait for an answer - instead, he disappears for a moment, leaving her alone with Illya. The man glances up at her again, eyes bright amongst the shadows of the room. She purses her lips together, mouths three words to him in the silence. He closes his eyes then and lowers his head, chin meeting his chest just as Napoleon clears his throat as he enters again. In his hands, he holds the thin, flexible piece of wood and he slaps it against his own palm.

Heat immediately rises between Gaby’s thighs as she sees Illya squirm.

“Having regrets now, my Russian friend?” Solo asks, leaning down to whisper along Illya’s ear. Illya doesn’t respond but he turns his head enough to stare at Solo and there’s a hot tension there that makes Gaby swallow thickly. Napoleon turns to face Gaby then, the smile he wears saccharine and oh so tempting. “I think our dear Gaby is going to enjoy this more than either of us.”

Napoleon steps back then, running the end of the cane along Illya’s shoulders. “Do you remember the guidelines?” he asks, voice softer than before. Illya nods then and Solo pushes, urging him to repeat them.

“Count strokes,” Illya begins. “No more than ten, even if I ask. If I say ‘Halt’, you stop immediately. Anything else?”

Solo stops for a moment and looks to Gaby then back to Illya. 

“I believe that’s it. Take a breath,” he instructs and Illya does as he is told. As he is about to exhale, Napoleon hits the cane along Illya’s shoulders and the room goes so quiet Gaby can hear the smallest of noises. Although it feels like a lifetime, it’s only a moment before Illya exhales fully and mutters out a shaky, “One”. Napoleon straightens his back and stands tall, eyes body on Gaby as she fidgets in her seat. She stays silent, watching as he continues to dole out strokes along Illya’s shoulders and back. By the time Illya mutters out a breathy “Five”, Gaby can’t contain the moan that leaves her lips. 

Napoleon looks up, that smile on his lips as she kneels down beside Illya. “Would you look at that…” he drawls, and Illya lifts his head to look at Gaby across from him. “What did I tell you? Gaby, you should enjoy yourself if you’d like.” He raises a brow then and Gaby leans back in the chair. She stares at the two men, her hands shaky as she brushes a hand along her chest, pausing near her breasts. Slowly, she unbuttons her blouse, pushing it aside as it falls open. She runs her fingertips over her breasts, nipples hard and erect because of the scene in front of her. With a breath, she unbuttons her trousers and her hand dips between her legs while her free hand teases her nipple. For a moment, Gaby lets her head fall back as she touches herself, at the mercy of the two men watching her.

The world goes quiet around her as Napoleon stands, stroking the cane alone Illya’s back again. When he counts out, Napoleon smiles and steps back. “Maybe you need a bit more encouragement to act your best,” he adds, stopping to rub his hands along Illya’s reddened and sensitive shoulders. Illya groans out and Gaby opens her eyes, watching them both with interest. 

Napoleon strolls over to Gaby and lowers himself to his knees in front of her. He leaves the cane on the floor beside them and reaches up to squeeze her breasts. Gaby breathes out, her own hands landing on top of Napoleon’s. He pulls his hands away and she raises her hips as Napoleon pulls her trousers down and pushes them toward her ankles. He kisses up her thighs, biting and licking each time that Gaby reacts with her moans. Behind them, Illya makes a noise deep in his throat and Napoleon stops short. He turns his head and smiles at the man in question, eyes lighting up. His attention turns back to Gaby and he pulls her underwear aside just enough to lick the length of her cunt. Gaby cries out, hands gripping the edge of the chair as Napoleon uses his tongue to push her closer to the edge. 

Through half-lidded eyes, she meets Illya’s gaze, noticing the hunger he cannot hide behind his eyes. “Oh… Napoleon.. right—“ she trails off, fingers tangling in his hair as he slips one, two, three fingers inside of her. Gaby’s hips thrust forward and Napoleon holds her hips down, trying to ground her against the chair. It takes only a crook of Napoleon’s wrist before Gaby is crying out, her vision blurring as she comes loudly. 

He pulls away from her then and sits back on his haunches, head turning to look at Illya. Napoleon’s gaze follows Illya’s body and when his eyes meet Illya’s erection he nods discreetly. Gaby sits straight up, flushed and breath shallow as she watches Solo stand again and grab the cane. 

“Nearly done, Kuryakin,” he announces, pressing his lips against the side of Illya’s temple. Gaby watches as Solo continues the strokes along Illya’s shoulders. When the tenth is given, Illya breathes out and immediately Napoleon drops the wood to the floor and leans over to untie Illya’s wrists. Illya sits back on his legs and rolls his shoulders, stretching and hissing when the bits of pain hit him in the right way. It’s Gaby that surges forward then, lands on her knees in front of Illya and caresses his cheek in order to pull him close enough that she can kiss him. When she pulls back, her teeth grate against his bottom lip, biting roughly until Illya moans in response. 

Illya gently runs his lips down her neck, leaving a trail of bite marks in his wake until he takes a nipple into his mouth. Gaby groans and looks toward Napoleon, beckoning him closer to them. He removes his clothes, and careful of the sensitive marks on Illya’s back he embraces the man, arms wrapping around his waist tightly. Illya leans back against Napoleon’s chest, his cool skin soothing him for a moment. Gaby reaches down to unbutton Illya’s trousers and push them down. Between them, his cock is hard and Gaby takes it in her hand, her fist moving slowly before she runs her thumb along the tip, the precome slick against her. 

It’s a bit of a shuffle at first, but Gaby fully slips her underwear off and Napoleon lets go of Illya so he can lay Gaby on the floor and he immediately enters her - her cunt slick enough that he fills her without harm. Gaby takes a moment to adjust to the feeling and she reaches up, cheeks in her hands as she pulls him closer to share a kiss. She catches Napoleon’s eyes from behind and she returns the sweet smile he gives her. Gaby bends her legs up, wrapping them around Illya’s waist to push him further, wanting to take every single bit of him inside of her. 

Napoleon moves to stretch beside Gaby and she kisses him, focusing on him for a moment as she grinds her hips up toward Illya. “Come here,” she instructs, and he follows, allowing Gaby to guide his cock to her lips. He hovers above her as she runs her mouth along the smooth skin and takes him into her mouth. She takes him fully, breathing through her nose as she reaches up to hold his ass, letting Napoleon fuck her mouth as Illya thrusts inside of her. She sees as Napoleon leans over to share a kiss with Illya but her attention is taken by the addition of Illya’s fingers on her clit. The sensory overload is nearly too much to handle - it feels as if every edge of her is being overwhelmed. Thankfully, Napoleon comes and Gaby swallows every drop of him before he moves back. But it’s his hands she reaches for when she calls out Illya’s name, begging for more even as she begins to come herself. She squeezes his hands tightly, the world going bright as she shakes. Illya slows for only a moment, helping her alongside Napoleon as she mutters under her breath. When Illya finally gives into his own orgasm with a final thrust and a call of her name, he pulls out of her, emptying himself on her flat stomach. 

He hovers over her, resting on one arm despite how tired he has grown and he looks up at Napoleon before gently running his fingers down her cheek. Gaby catches a finger tip in her mouth and sucks gently, lips pursing at the taste of herself on him and turning into a smile. 

—

Later, Illya lays on his stomach and Gaby is perched beside him, watching as Napoleon runs a cool rag along Illya’s shoulders. He’s applying a cooling salve, something to ward off any nasty effects from the cane along his skin. Gaby reaches out and gently runs her fingers along a particularly rigid mark and Illya opens an eye. 

“Does it help?” she asks, and Napoleon isn’t sure if she is referring to the way he cares for Illya afterwards or the caning itself - the way it calm Illya and lets him be, just for the moment, vulnerable to the two of them. But Illya nods and it’s an answer to whatever Gaby wants to know. 

“Though, I would like to see Cowboy punished next time, maybe,” Illya offers, eyes tired and closed and voice heavy with the sleep he craves now. Napoleon laughs, the sound deep in his chest.

“Except, I’m always a good boy."


End file.
